


Doppelganger

by bironic



Category: True Blood, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alley Sex, Biting, Crossover, Doppelganger, Dubious Consent, F/M, Misogyny, Mutant, Porn Battle, Suicidal Thoughts, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bironic/pseuds/bironic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Near her ear now, he murmured, "There is much you can do without touching someone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doppelganger

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for True Blood 2.9, "I Will Rise Up"
> 
> Flashfic written for Porn Battle IX. No prompt.
> 
> For those of you who haven't seen one or both sources, Anna Paquin plays both Sookie on TB and Rogue in X-Men.

Another boring Friday full of boring supplicants at Fangtasia. Slouched in his seat on stage, Eric was poking at his iPhone for better entertainment when Pam made a sound at his side to attract his attention. He followed her gaze to find Sookie standing near the door. She was wearing jeans and opera gloves despite the heat, and she'd straightened her hair and dyed it brown except for two streaks in front.

He sat up. What was she doing here without his knowledge? Where was Bill?

And what the hell had she done to her hair?

He was out of his seat and grasping her arm before she could blink.

She started, tried to pull away, couldn't. Said, "Don't touch me."

He stared down at her. He couldn't detect a trace of his blood in her.

He squinted in concentration, searching. Ah—there. Sookie was at Merlotte's. That connection couldn't be faked. So who was this creature in front of him?

She had the same face, the same voice, the same bow lips. Her tone, as Bill would say, was pure Sookie. But her manner was different, her eyes older, somehow, and there was no recognition in them.

"I'm serious," she said. "You don't want to touch me. It's for your own protection."

Her innocence was amusing, so he let go. "Who are you?"

"My name's Rogue."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, it's Marie. But I go by Rogue."

"I don't suppose your surname is Stackhouse."

She made a confused face. "No."

Of course not; that would be too easy. "Rogue," he mused. "A powerful name for a little girl."

"I'm not little. Besides, you barely look older than me."

"You'd be surprised."

"I probably wouldn't. My friend Logan, he reckons he's over a hundred years old and he only looks, like, forty."

Interesting. Another vampire?

"And if I said I was ten times older again?" he asked.

She studied him. "I'd say you were probably the reason this place has the reputation I've heard about."

"And what reputation might that be?"

She tilted her chin up. "That people come here to meet vampires."

He loomed a little more and was gratified when she swallowed. "Do you doubt that is what happens here?"

To her credit, she retorted, "So far, it just looks like a lot of goths trying to get laid."

"And you are not?"

"Not what?"

"Here to 'get laid'?"

"No." She blushed; another difference from Sookie. Then, defiantly: "I can't."

His eyebrows climbed. "Is that so." Overprotective parents, perhaps, or saving herself until marriage; neither of which counted for much in this place. His fangs tingled.

She crossed her arms. "I'm a mutant. People can't touch me."

Wary, he looked at the bared skin between her gloves and shirt sleeves. "Or what?"

"My skin, it—I take energy from people. Strength. Powers, if they're mutants." With a hurt defensiveness that again echoed Sookie's, she added, "I can't help it. It just happens."

Curiouser and curiouser. Then again, this town already had a telepath and a shapeshifter. Why not a succubus?

"Why are you asking me all these questions, anyway?" she said. "You haven't even introduced yourself."

He extended his hand—and his fangs. Her eyes widened. "Eric Northman, proprietor." He gave her a patented slow grin. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Wow." Staring at his fangs, she reached out and shook his hand. Her powers didn't seem to transfer through clothing; he brought her gloved fingers to his lips and kissed them. Her blush deepened.

"I've never met a vampire before," she said, taking her hand back. "Mutants and vampires, we don't seem to mix much."

"Politics," he said simply. "But I don't wish to discuss politics with you, Marie-who-goes-by-Rogue."

"Oh. Um." Her gaze darted between his eyes and his teeth. "What did you have in mind?"

"Tell me." He leaned closer. "If you did not have this… problem… of yours, would you refuse my advances?"

He half-hoped she would say yes and make what was about to happen even more exciting. However, in this case, willingness had its appeal. She did look so like Sookie.

Wide eyes. Heart rate picking up. Hormones pumping. "I..."

Near her ear now, he murmured, "There is much you can do without touching someone."

A tremor went through her. "Okay," she whispered.

Over the girl's head, he locked eyes with Pam, who had been watching them from the stage. He tipped his head toward the alley exit. She nodded.

"Come with me," he said to Rogue, and without waiting for a response, he hauled her outside and pushed her up against the wall with his thigh between hers. She gasped, doubtless a combination of the force and the speed at which he'd moved her. He watched the pulse pound in her neck. He wanted to tear her shirt open and bury his face and his fangs in her breasts while she fought him. He wanted to drain her dry and fill her up again with blood and cock until she'd turned into a vampire as well as a mutant, and then he wanted to present her to Bill just to see the look on the man's face.

Instead, he held her by one shirt-covered shoulder and slid a hand between her legs. Heat bled through her clothes; he let his eyelids droop at the smell of her. She made soft sounds as he moved his fingers, reaching up to hold onto his biceps with her free hand and his wrist with the other. She was young, inexperienced, easy to manipulate; within minutes, he had her riding the edge.

Sookie's face contorting in concentration and pleasure; Sookie's voice making little "oh" sounds; Sookie's scent growing richer as he breathed. He took his hand away and lifted the leg between hers until her shoes barely touched the ground. She sucked in a breath, squirming.

"Move," he commanded. "Take it if you want it."

She frowned up at him, but when he nudged, her head fell back and she began an awkward undulation, rocking into his thigh. Her breaths quickened, her vocalizations grew louder, and then her fingers clenched on his arms and she came.

He lifted his eyebrow. "Was it good?"

She was still catching her breath. "Yeah," she said. "Thank you. You're kind of a jerk, though."

He chuckled. "That's one of the nicer names I've been called." He set her back on her feet and undid the button on her jeans.

"What are you doing?"

Now he raised both eyebrows, and lowered her zipper. "I'm going to fuck you."

Her pupils went wider and her skin flushed. "It'll hurt you."

He stripped the jeans and her underwear off one leg entirely. "Handy things, condoms," he said, and held up one of the prophylactics that he kept in his pocket because you could never be too careful with the sort of filth that walked through Fangtasia's doors. "I hear they're even making some that are blood-flavored now."

"It's still dangerous," she said, but she licked her lips as she watched him open his pants and smooth on the condom. He didn't remove any of his own clothing beyond that; no point in taking more chances than he had to.

"I'm the oldest vampire in this region of the country," he said. "I have strength to spare. Hold on."

He lifted her against the wall once again so she was at the right height; when he let go, she grabbed at his shoulders and clenched her thighs to his hips to keep from falling. He maneuvered himself between her legs, lined up, and—paused.

"Oh," he moaned. "Please tell me you're a virgin."

"Not—not exactly," she said. "I've done it before, with my boyfriend's—well, he was my boyfriend then, I mean—"

"Don't care," he said.

"...With his fingers, anyway, we had gloves. And I have some—you know. Stuff. Girl stuff."

He smirked. Sookie probably had a collection of her own in some frilly nightstand in her grandmother's house. He wondered if Bill used them on her. If she used them on herself while he watched. He would have to make another trip down to Bon Temps one of these days to find out things like that. And then drop them into conversations casually.

Later.

He pushed home, making an appreciative sound at the heat of her. Sook—Rogue moaned and held onto him.

It had been a while since he'd fucked a human. He'd almost forgotten how light and pliable they were, how authentically responsive when they weren't jaded with age or being paid to get sucked. He took Rogue's gloved wrists and pinned them against the brick and shoved into her, earning grunts and occasional small cries each time her back hit the wall.

As the minutes passed, he began to feel a sort of...pull, a little zing, where the exposed skin at his groin touched hers, like static buildup combined with the drain of someone drinking from him. It ebbed when he pulled back, and surged when he thrust home. He sensed the faintest stirrings that something was wrong, but he was in no real danger yet.

Rogue was panting near his ear. Usually by this point he'd lost interest in whoever was under him. This time, though, he thought he might actually come. He thought it might actually be good. What he needed was—

"You can't—bite me," she gasped when he bent to nuzzle at her throat, half-covered by her hair. "Not—without hurting yourself."

"Can take it," he murmured, and sank his teeth into her.

She yelled. He reveled in it, shoving into her harder from both ends, sucking, fucking, surrounded by the pulsing life of the closest thing he was going to have to Sookie without risking murder by Compton. She struggled. He stopped feeding long enough to slice a fingertip with a fang, pushed it into her mouth and rubbed a few drops over her tongue. At that, her cries changed pitch; she shuddered against him in orgasm—he could taste it—and, lit up by his blood, writhed for more. His own lips were going pins-and-needles numb, his chin, his hand where he was gripping the side of her head to tilt her at the right angle. She was palpably leaching energy from him now. He had a fleeting fantasy of stripping the both of them and letting her draw from him until she was strong enough to flip them on the ground, hold him down and dominate him. Or at least strong enough to allow him to pretend that she could rival him.

He wasn't so stupid as to let her do it, of course. He dragged his mouth away from her throat.

The girl arched again, keening. This time it was enough to send him over as well. He spilled into the condom with a release almost as sharp as it had felt to drink from her, and stayed in her long enough for her to wring out a third—fourth?—climax.

He pulled out, licked the last of her off his lips and tossed the condom. She stumbled when he stepped back. He still felt electrified and vaguely jelly-like at the thighs, but the sensation was already fading. Definitely interesting. As he did up his pants, he took in the sight of her: wet between the legs, hair disheveled, eyes glazed, lips and throat smeared with blood. The healing wound in her throat trailed crimson down the front of her shirt. She looked well-fucked. But oddly, she didn't seem all the way there; there was a distant look in her—

"Godric," she whispered.

His face went blank. His emotions followed.

He stepped away from her. Slowly, calmly, he said, "What did you say?"

She focused on him, but now it was he who was barely registering. "I—I'm sorry," she said. "For your loss."

"You know nothing about it." His voice was like a husk.

"I do, though." She reached out; he took another step back. "When I touch people, it's like a piece of their soul slips inside my head. Just now? I saw some of what you saw. I felt some of what you felt."

He shut his eyes.

He thought again about letting her touch him. About letting her drain him past the point where he could stop her. About letting her do what Godric had forbidden him to, and following him wherever he had gone—oblivion, or hell.

But he wasn't that pathetic. He wasn't Bill, after all.

"It wasn't your fault," the girl was saying.

He breathed.

"What he did, it—"

"Get out," he said.

"—wasn't... What?"

"I will call for you again. You have my blood in you. I'll know where you are. But right now, you need to leave."

"I—"

"Do it!"

She dressed and went inside. He put his head in his hands.

Some time later, he straightened. He'd left Pam in charge in there for long enough. The night was winding down; they would need to close soon. Then to sleep. And then he would get up once more, and prepare for another boring Saturday at Fangtasia.

Perhaps he would go to Bon Temps instead.

Perhaps he would summon Rogue there.

Who knew what might happen.


End file.
